


Of Witches and Men

by Even_Misha_Ships_Destiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Comatose Castiel (Supernatural), Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Teacher Dean Winchester, i'll tag more when i have more to post
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 03:10:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13825230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Even_Misha_Ships_Destiel/pseuds/Even_Misha_Ships_Destiel
Summary: When Castiel, the local witch, fell into a coma, Dean, his nostalgic best friend, dug out an old friendship bracelet Cas had made for him 13 years ago. Only, Dean didn’t expect all of this this to happen just because he put on an old friendship bracelet.





	Of Witches and Men

“Dean? Dean?”

Dean hummed in acknowledgment. 

Charlie cleared her throat, trying to draw Dean’s attention. It didn’t work. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Why?” 

“Uh, because you’ve been staring out the window for over a minute and you haven’t blinked once. It’s getting a little scary.” 

He frowned at that, turning to look at Charlie. Her eyebrows were pinched together, concerned, and Dean realized she was right. The brightness of the sunny November afternoon was still seared into his vision as he looked away from his friend. 

“Oh,” he said. “Sorry.” 

Charlie went silent, and Dean did too, neither willing to break the newfound silence. This was the fourth time that happened today, Dean knew, and noon had only been two hours ago. He licked his lips and tried to suppress the urge to look back at the window. 

Unable to remain silent for more than sixty seconds, the redhead decided to change the topic to distract Dean from his sulking by going on a rant about how it was an absolute sin that there weren’t any Harry Potter Marauder movies—or _books_ , for that matter—after all these years. Dean listened to her ramble for the next thirty minutes as they cleaned the classroom, throwing in a “that’s true” and “you’re so right” every now and again.

It was almost three when Dean and Charlie finished tidying the classroom and he was more than ready to get home. He grabbed his jacket off the desk and walked toward the door, but Charlie’s hand stopped him halfway. 

“Oh! Dean, wait.” 

He looked at her, an eyebrow raising. “What’s up?” 

Charlie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and cleared her throat, trying to find the words for something. She opened her mouth and Dean was suddenly struck with what was about to happen. He was going to get one of those speeches about how sorry Charlie was for Dean, how she was there for him no matter what and if he ever wanted to talk, she could listen, etcetera, etcetera. And it wasn’t as though Dean didn’t appreciate those talks—he was glad to know he had loyal friends who would listen to a sobbing, blubbering Dean if he needed them to and wouldn’t say a peep the next day—but they were entirely unnecessary. He was fine. Or, he would be, eventually. 

He would be when Cas finally woke up and texted him back, maybe called him up to rant about how his neighbor’s cat tried to eat his oil paints. 

“Look,” she began, clearing her throat. “I think you should call in sick tomorrow.”  

Okay, that wasn’t what Dean had been expecting. “Wait, what? Why?” 

Charlie reached up to awkwardly itch behind her ear and looked up at Dean and said bluntly, “Well, for starters, you look like you haven’t slept for more than an hour in over a week.” 

She wasn’t wrong. 

“And then you fell asleep in one of the tiny chairs during Quiet Time,” Charlie pointed out. “Don’t get me wrong—it’s hilarious to see a grown man fall asleep in a two-foot tall green chair, but it’s a little . . . concerning.” 

“You’re the one who decided to play spa music in a dark room while the kids were on their cots. What was I supposed to do?” 

Charlie scoffed, a smile twitching at her lips. “Dean, they’re five—they need naps. You, on the other hand, shouldn’t. And aside from that, you’re clearly distracted; you keep checking your phone every two minutes.” 

“Yeah, well, that isn’t about to stop,” Dean felt obligated to point out. “Not until he wakes up.” 

Silence fell between them again as a softer look came over Charlie’s features, then she picked up her own jacket, looking exhausted—far too exhausted for someone wearing bright yellow jeans.

“Dean, please,” Charlie tried again, mustering a pleading grin. “I’m asking you to stay home tomorrow. Do you really think you’re in the right headspace to be surrounded by obnoxious five year olds? Stay home, watch Star Trek, eat two plates of nachos in an hour. Doesn’t that sound like fun?” 

Dean couldn’t fault her logic; he definitely wasn’t in the right mindset to foster the minds of the future generation. But taking one day off wasn’t about to fix that—taking 30 days off wouldn’t fix that. There was one thing that would put his mind at ease, and that might never happen. 

“A day off won’t fix anything,” Dean said. “I can’t—” 

He cut himself off, looking away as he swallowed.

“I can’t just pick up Dr. Seuss and pretend like Cas isn’t comatose in a hospital bed that’s on the other side of the country,” Dean stressed. “I can’t even see him until next month, and even then, I can only stay for three days before I have to come back to work.” 

Charlie winced and Dean shrugged helplessly, smiling. It wasn’t a warm smile, rather, a cold and bitter twist of his lips. Dean let the smile drop as abruptly as it arose before he turned around and walked out of the classroom. Charlie let him brood, locking the room and scurrying after Dean, concern still written on her face. 

When they made it to Charlie’s mint green beetle, which was parked directly beside the Impala, she turned to him and grabbed his arm again, but this time, her grip was more firm. 

“I know there’s nothing I can say that will make this any easier,” Charlie said. “It’s a really, really crappy situation. But, Dean, I know he wouldn’t want you doing this to yourself. He wouldn’t want you to shut yourself away from the world just because he’s not by your side. You can’t do that to yourself and you can’t do that to him.” 

With a sigh, Dean relented. “Fine. I’ll stay home.” 

Charlie’s head snapped up in surprise like she hadn’t expected he’d actually agree. “Wait, really? You’ll stay home?” 

Dean nodded. “I’ll see you later, Charlie.” 

She seemed to be placated by that because she let go of his arm with a smile. “Okay. Bye, Dean.”

 

* * *

 

 

One of the benefits of living in a small town was growing up with the same kids since preschool. Dean had a vivid memory of Charlie, red hair chopped short and pushed back with a butterfly headband, offering him a few Pringles on their first day of school. Lebanon, with a population of 203, scarcely received newcomers, and when it did, those people were gone within five years. The general stereotype of people who migrated to Lebanon were older, redneck divorcees in search of a new beginning. More often than not, those people didn’t have children under 18, which was why it was so surprising for Dean to walk into his first day of second grade and find a young, dark-haired boy sitting in a chair right beside Dean’s assigned seat. They were table partners, Dean realized, and he felt a thrill of excitement at being the one chosen to sit with the new kid. The new kid had a weird name that Dean struggled to pronounce—Castiel—and by the end of the day, he was nicknamed Cas. 

Cas was a boy whose personality was as odd and unique as his name. He was a quiet, reserved kid who only spoke when spoken to. He had a lunch box with a flower on it, which Dean thought was a little weird since flowers were for girls. Dean had said as much one day, but Cas had just rolled his eyes and said, “That’s not true. Flowers are for everyone, not just girls.” After that, Dean decided that he liked Cas. 

As the years went on, he, Charlie, and Cas only got closer. Charlie would invite them over to her old, blue house where they’d go up to the attic and would use her awesome projector to watch Star Wars, Star Trek, Lord of the Rings, and any other nerdy thing they could get their hands on. They would stuff their faces with popcorn and candy, courtesy of Charlie, who had a major sweet tooth. Unfortunately, their time together only lasted until 5th grade before Charlie had to move to Vermont with her grandma after her parents got into a car crash. Her dad had died instantly while her mom was stuck in a coma. As long as she was gone, Dean and Cas got together after school to call her and tell her what happened every day. In her absence, however, Dean and Cas spent more time together. Dean learned that Cas couldn’t sleep with socks on, no matter how cold the weather, because he always felt like they suffocated his ankles. Dean learned that Cas had a knack for drawing and often liked drawing Dean doing silly things like wearing underwear on his head with cherries in his nose. Dean also learned that Cas was different. 

And not different in the same way that his name was different, or even that his personality was different. He was gifted. One day, while he and Dean were racing home from school, Cas had tripped and scraped his knees and palms. He’d been bleeding and Dean had quickly whipped out the crumpled napkin in his pocket from lunch and handed it to Cas. When they parted ways, Cas was still hobbling in pain, but the next day, there wasn’t a single scratch on his skin. Dean had disregarded it at the time, coming up with some excuse for how Cas healed so quickly. But then there was that time that Dean had been a dollar short while trying to buy a muffin from the gas station across from the middle school. Cas had said, “Here, let me see. I’m sure you have more somewhere.” Dean knew for a fact that he didn’t—he’d had five dollars for his allowance and he’d spent the last four on two candy bars—but handed his crumped dollar bill to his friend anyway. Cas had frowned, murmured something under his breath as he smoothed out the dollar bill and, to Dean’s delight, there were suddenly two more bills beneath the original. That one was harder to rationalize away, but Dean figured maybe Cas had somehow sneaked in his own money. 

By the third time Cas had done something slightly bizarre and seemingly impossible, Dean had already decided that his best friend was a wizard. Dean was so sure of this that he persuaded his mom to buy Gandalf’s hat from eBay and gave it to Cas on his birthday. The boy was absolutely thrilled that Dean thought of him as Gandalf, for that was his favorite character in Lord of the Rings, and he wore it to school the next day. Gordon laughed at Cas and called him a weirdo, but Cas didn’t even care. 

It was a week later that Cas came over to Dean’s house with a box of colorful string and beads and a small, excited smile on his face. He said he wanted to make friendship bracelets because his sister Anna had been making one for her best friend Hannah, and she taught him how. Dean was quick to agree because if Anna Novak did something, that meant it must be cool. 

That day, while eating turkey sandwiches and cheese puffs, Cas finally decided to open up about his abilities. He’d admitted that he was born with special powers and people like him were called “witches”. Dean asked if Cas could do magic for him and he readily agreed. He showed Dean how to make a friendship bracelet, how to weave the strings together tight enough that it wouldn’t come loose, and once the bracelets were finished, Cas started to slip the beads onto Dean’s. He murmured something every time he fed the string through a bead and each time, without fail, there was a soft gust of wind and Dean could have sworn he smelled flowers. Cas’s eyes glowed a very light shade of blue every time he used magic and Dean couldn’t believe he hadn’t put the pieces together sooner—he’d seen Cas’s eyes change color like that at least once a day over the past four years. 

When Dean’s bracelet was finally finished, Cas took the liberty of tying it around Dean’s wrist, his fingers deft and gentle as they knotted the strings, and he asked if it was too tight. Dean shook his head, mouth agape as he twisted his wrist, admiring the bracelet. It was thin but durable and the beads were small and black, so shiny they were almost holographic. It looked good, Dean thought, and his heart felt light as he stared at it. He really did have the coolest best friend. 

As much as Dean tried, his fingers weren’t quite as deft as Cas’s, not nearly as graceful. He tried to slip the beads onto the strings, but he couldn’t get more than one on, so Cas ended up taking it and doing it himself. He didn’t cast spells while making his own, though, and Dean was a little disappointed. At last, Cas’s bracelet was done and he let Dean tie his bracelet around his wrist and then gave him a brilliant smile; a smile he’d given to nobody but Dean. 

As the night went on, Cas’s courage grew and he started to perform little magic tricks. At one point, he conjured a vine through the open window and it slithered down the dark blue wall and over the tan carpet, coming to a stop right in front of Dean’s foot. Small, blue flowers began sprouting from the vine, and although Dean was pretty sure flowers didn’t actually grow from vines like that, he was too amazed by the beautiful, unique flower vine to say anything. About half an hour later, Cas made Dean’s cardboard cutout of Chewbacca wave at Sam when he came into the room and the younger boy gasped in shock. Sam plopped down on the rug and stayed with Dean and Cas for an hour, asking the boy to perform more magic, and of course, Cas obliged. He did simple, yet astonishing things, like turn Sam’s t-shirt into an appalling clown sweater whose huge, red pompom was the clown’s nose (Dean’s request), and both older boys cackled as Sam made a horrified squawk and ripped off the terrifying sweater. With tears of laughter in his eyes, Cas apologized to Sam and promised to make it up to him. Then Cas cupped his palms together and whispered to his fingers, eyes flashing that otherworldly white-blue before he opened his hands. To the amazement of both Sam and Dean, a blue butterfly flew out of Cas’s palms, fluttering around the room. For a whole minute, the three boys watched the creature soar. After it flew off Dean’s nose and onto Sam’s outstretched hand, the butterfly flew out of the window, to the brothers’ disappointment. 

And then, as they were lying in bed that night, Cas murmured something and the ceiling suddenly morphed into the sky, but with fireflies and glowing butterflies—all replicas of the one that flew around Dean’s room only hours prior—dancing among the stars as if they, too, belonged in the night sky. 

When Dean finally closed his eyes, he dreamed he was part of the sky, too. 

For a whole week, Dean wore his bracelet, ignoring the comments he received from his peers. His bracelet was made by a witch, after all—a witch that was his best friend. None of his classmates could leer him into removing it, not even Gordon and Carl when they would snicker and whisper (loudly) behind Dean’s back about how “girly” and “gay” it was for the two boys to have matching friendship bracelets. The whole time they were gossiping about Dean and Cas, Dean would think, Cas could turn you into a toad if he wanted to. He could turn you into big, fat, ugly toads with warts all over your mouths. Keep talking, and he just might. 

That made Dean look over at his best friend and shoot him a grin. Even though Cas would never turn someone into a toad (he was too nice to do something like that, even if people were being awful to him), Dean took pleasure in the thought that he could if he wanted to. 

After school for the next few days, Cas came back to Dean’s house and showed Dean more magic. He showed Dean spells and brought over small vials of potions—generally simple little potions that would do things like turn a small animal another color for a few hours or would give you x-ray vision for a day. He even brought over books of magical creatures. On Saturday morning, Cas made Dean promise he wouldn’t tell anyone Cas was a witch, though. When Dean asked why, he said, “There are too many bad witches in the world. They use their magic to hurt people when they’re upset. So people called Hunters kill them. Since there are so many bad witches, Hunters think we’re all bad. If they find out I have magic, they’ll kill me.” 

So, Dean kept his mouth shut, not telling a single person that his best friend was a witch. Only Sam knew, and he’d also promised not to mention Cas’s magic to anyone. 

The Wednesday after Cas gave him the bracelet, however, things started to go downhill. It was the day John Winchester confronted Dean about wearing a friendship bracelet. In a very serious yet gentle tone, John described to Dean that he shouldn’t be wearing jewelry because that was for girls. He said if Dean wanted to wear jewelry, he was either a girl or he was gay, and Dean was neither. Dean didn’t really know what gay was at the time—he figured it had something to do with boys being girly, but he didn’t understand. Not really. 

“But Cas—” Dean had tried to protest, but John smiled thinly and shook his head. 

“Cas doesn’t live under my roof,” John had said. “You do. Now, I’m not going to force you to take off that bracelet, but you’re giving the wrong kind of impression to everyone you meet by wearing it. Do yourself a favor, son, and save the humiliation for somebody else.” 

So Dean took off the bracelet. 

He stuffed it away in his drawer, trying hard not to feel like he’d just betrayed Cas by taking off the bracelet and hiding it away, like wearing it was wrong; like it was something to be ashamed of. That night, he hardly slept, afraid of Cas’s reaction the next day. 

What Dean should have been afraid of was himself sticking his foot in his mouth, rather than Cas getting angry about the mere act of removing the bracelet. The next day before history, Cas noticed the bracelet missing from Dean’s wrist and he frowned, confused. When he asked why Dean had taken off the bracelet, Dean wanted to lie. He wanted to say he lost it or he spilled something on it. Or that he just forgot to put it on this morning. But he couldn’t lie—not to Cas. So Dean had responded with, “Boys don’t wear jewelry.” 

Cas’s face grew even more confused, and he was clearly trying to hide his hurt. “What? That isn’t even remotely true. Anyone can wear jewelry. Besides, it’s not like there were pearls or diamonds on it; they were simple, black beads.” 

Dean repeated John’s words, “Yeah, but . . . if you wear jewelry, you’re either a girl or you’re gay, and I’m neither.”

Heads turned at the word “gay” and the room went silent. Dean hardly noticed, too consumed by the look of shock on Cas’s face. 

Before Dean knew what was happening, Cas was turning away from Dean, mouth snapping shut so hard Dean could hear the click of teeth. Dean floundered for something to say, but Cas was speaking before a single word came to mind. 

“I see,” said Cas, his voice controlled. 

“It’s not a big deal, you know,” Dean scrambled, looking for some way to right his wrong. “I mean, it’s just a bracelet.”

That was the wrong thing to say. 

Cas’s voice was flat when he responded. “You’re right. It’s unimportant. My mistake.” 

Dean felt frozen to the spot, shame and guilt burning hot throughout his body. He gulped and took a shaky breath. “Cas—” 

“Don’t,” said Cas, not looking at Dean. “Just. Just don’t.”

 

* * *

 

When Dean arrived home, it was with two bags of groceries just after 4:30. The grocery store in Lebanon didn’t have precooked pies, so Dean just went to the next town over—he picked up some microwavable dinners that should keep him satisfied for the next week or so, too. After shoving the frozen dinners in his freezer, Dean tossed his jacket onto the kitchen counter and collapsed onto the tan, striped, hand-me-down couch his parents had given him when he’d moved into his first apartment. The ugly thing had seen the Winchester boys grow up and it was definitely something that should have stayed in the late 90‘s, but it was anchored to hundreds of memories so Dean couldn’t bring himself to get rid of it. The couch, ugly as it may have been, was where Dean shared his first kiss with a brunette named Robin. She’d been a bit older and had only kissed him because she found out Dean was sixteen and had never been kissed before. The ugly couch was also where a fifteen year old Dean had nursed Sam back to health during a nasty stomach flu while their parents were in Germany for an old friend’s funeral. The ugly couch was where he apologized to Cas for taking the bracelet off after the boy had ignored him for nearly two weeks.

Even now, that fight was still one of their worst. Dean still grimaced at the mere thought of it. He scrubbed a hand down his face and dug his phone out of his pocket, staring at the screen for a moment. There was a single Instagram notification on his screen, something about a new requested follower named Rowena MacLeod, but the person didn’t seem familiar so he declined. There weren’t any new messages in Dean’s voicemail either. Pressing his lips together, he debated whether or not he should call Gabe for an update. On one hand, Gabe would tell Dean if anything had changed. Dean would be one of the first to know, just after Cas’s immediate family. On the other hand, if something had happened, what was the chance Gabe would have thought to call Dean, given that he wasn’t technically family? 

With a sigh, Dean dialed the number, hoping for the best.

The phone rang twice before Gabe answered it. When he did, his voice was tired but was still light, as always. “Hiya, Dean. Let me guess: you want to know if my dear brother has woken up yet?” 

“Not really, I just missed the sound of your voice.” Dean rolled his eyes. 

Gabe snorted and said, “You really know how to sweet talk, Winchester.” There was rustling on the other line and then there was another voice talking and Gabe muttered something in response. Dean assumed it was a nurse. “Sorry to disappoint, but he hasn’t so much as twitched a finger.” 

“Oh,” said Dean. “Well, are there any other changes?” 

Gabe’s sigh crackled the receiver. “Dad arrived yesterday but otherwise, no.” 

There was a silence between the two, and for a minute, Dean wanted to open his mouth and say something stupid, like how much he missed Cas and his awful taste in comedies and how he missed Cas beating him at Words With Friends by hundreds of points because he was just so _smart_ and knew so many words, he could put a dictionary to the test. Dean wanted to admit that he thought this world just wasn’t the same without Cas’s sarcasm and gummy smiles. 

The worst part was, Dean knew Gabe would understand if he started gushing about Cas, because Gabe would undoubtedly be feeling his absence as strongly as Dean. 

Although, Gabe was able to be there with his brother, whereas Dean was stuck in Lebanon, Kansas, sitting idly on his thumbs while his best friend was wasting away in a hospital bed in New York. 

“Well, if that’s all . . .” Gabe said. 

“Oh. Uh. Yeah, yeah. That’s . . . that’s all.” 

“All right. Well—” 

“Wait, can you do me a favor?”

There was a beat, and then, “Depends. I ain’t sending you nudes, no matter how much you beg. You’re really not my type, big boy.” 

Scoffing, Dean rolled his eyes. “Shut up for a sec, man. I just want to know if you can let me know when something happens? Like, anything at all. I don’t care what time it is, just . . .” 

“Yeah, I understand. And when Cassie wakes up, I’ll tell him all about how _worried_ his boyfriend was.” 

Dean rolled his eyes, not giving Gabriel the satisfaction of a response. “Thanks, Gabe. Keep me informed.” 

“You got it.” 

The phone call ended and tapped the side of his thumb against his phone, thinking. Gabe had sounded exhausted, as if he’d gotten even less sleep than Dean. Knowing Gabriel, he had chosen to stay and watch over his comatose brother all day until he was kicked out after visiting hours, and he probably didn’t get any sleep once he was back home. 

Scrubbing a hand down his face, Dean shoved his phone into his pocket and stood up, walking to his living room. Every step felt numb and methodical, as if he was on auto pilot and just going through the motions. And, in a way, he was. How else could Dean cope? God, just a week ago, Cas had called Dean to complain (for a whole hour in very vivid detail) about a buyer who had flaked out at the last minute on getting one of Cas’s biggest paintings. 

Dean needed to clear his head.

He got up, grabbed a beer and put some ramen in the microwave before settling back onto the couch. Maybe there would be something on TV to distract him because he could really use one right now. Dean wondered if this week there would be one of those Harry Potter marathons because those were always fun to watch. Albeit, less fun without Charlie, but still fun, nonetheless. 

Unfortunately, the only thing relatively interesting on was Cake Boss. For two and a half hours, Dean sat there, sprawled on his couch, watching five rerun episodes of Cake Boss while eating ramen and sipping lazily from his beer, wondering why a six-year-old boy needed a truck cake twice the size of his small body. Although, to be fair, he would have loved a huge car cake when he was a kid—that, or a giant Star Wars cake. At some point during an episode about two lumberjacks getting married, Dean drifted off, settling into a hypersensitive, light sleep. Every time a commercial came on or the bakers raised their voices, Dean would startle awake. He slept like this for a while—long enough that when he woke up, Cake Boss’s marathon was nearly finished and Say Yes To The Dress was just about to replace it. 

While he waited for Say Yes To The Dress to come on as Cake Boss’s credits were rolling, a commercial for Klutz Friendship Bracelets Craft Kit caught Dean’s eye. Maybe it was the little girl whose dark hair and blue eyes vaguely resembled Cas’s, maybe it was her best friend who had a splattering of freckles across her nose, or maybe it was just the concept of friendship bracelets that reminded Dean of the homemade piece of jewelry he’d taken off his wrist almost thirteen years ago. He glanced down at his hand, a watch sitting where the bracelet used to.

“Get your Friendship Bracelet Kit now!” The Australian man on the TV said, his voice far too chipper for someone just selling an overpriced bracelet kit. “Only $19.99! Order now and your next order will be completely free. Yes, you heard right, completely free!” 

The Australian man’s voice droned on, but Dean was hardly paying attention anymore; his mind had started to replay that miserable day on a loop. Cas’s confused, hurt face, Dean’s panic at having hurt his friend but not knowing how to fix it, and the two weeks of silence that followed. Dean wondered briefly why he’d ever taken the bracelet off; why his father had gotten inside his head with his bigoted words. Even if John had been right (and he hadn’t, Dean knew that now) about the bracelet giving people “the wrong impression”,� it shouldn’t have bothered him. Cas had spent an _hour_ making that bracelet for Dean, taking time to whisper spells that Dean knew were blessings over every last bead. Merely taking it off was disrespectful, but then Dean really dug himself into a hole by calling it _girly and gay_. After thirteen years, that memory still haunted Dean. Now more than ever, with Cas gone. Although Cas had forgiven him a long time ago, Dean knew there was a little part of him that was still offended. It was evident in how Cas had become more reserved after the bracelet incident. He hadn’t made anything for Dean ever since—not even a customized piece of art as a birthday gift, which he did for _everyone_. 

He had made many mistakes in his life—far too many, and he was barely in his mid twenties—but none had ever affected Dean like that one. Thinking about it made him feel guilty, and it always brought his mind back to the fact that Cas had never taken his bracelet off; not once. Not even when he was covered head-to-toe in oil paints. 

Dean should never have taken his off. But maybe he could still fix this. Maybe the reason Dean still felt so awful about something that happened over a decade ago was because, deep down, he knew he could right his wrong. All it would take was finding that bracelet and putting it back on; then Cas could _really_ forgive him, and maybe Dean could finally forgive himself, too. With a burst of determination, Dean set his beer on the coffee table and pushed off the couch, then turned off the TV and started to walk to his room. 

When he was about five years old, Dean and Sam had been playing at the park across the street from their childhood home. Sam was barely one at the time, but he’d somehow found a small army man in the grass, grabbed it, and held it out to Dean, giving him a wide, gummy grin. Mary had told him to throw it away when they got home, but he didn’t. Instead, he carefully stuck the army man in an old shoe box and then shoved it deep under his bed so Mary would never find it. When he was seven, Dean found a really shiny rock in his school’s playground and took it home. The rock joined the army man in the shoebox. Almost a year later, Charlie had given Dean’s family her yearbook picture, and since there was an extra, that photo joined the shoebox under his bed. When Dean was ten, Cas had made a short comic of Dean fighting, and then defeating, Darth Vader. Cas crumpled it up and threw it in the trash after class ended, but Dean retrieved it and added it to his box. And then just three weeks later, Cas had revealed he was a witch, enchanted the friendship bracelet he made for Dean, then Dean took it off after a week and gently placed it among the army man, the shiny rock, the yearbook picture, and the comic. 

Since then, Dean had added to the box, but not much. His first concert ticket was in there, along with Cassie Robinson’s love letter from the 9th grade, Cas and Charlie’s senior pictures, and a post-it his mom sent to school in his lunchbox when he was in 7th grade. 

The box wasn’t under Dean’s bed anymore, it was in the bottom drawer of his nightstand, pushed all the way to the back. He pulled the shoebox out of the drawer and set it on his bed, lifting the lid carefully. The old, cardboard shoebox was barely hanging together after nearly twenty years, having been damaged in the move to college and then his first and second apartments. 

As Dean rummaged through the box, the heavy weight of nostalgia settled over him as he was strange looked down at the collection of miscellaneous mementos he’d collected over the years. He took a deep breath when he found the bracelet, tucked in the corner beneath Mary’s post-it note. With gentle fingers, Dean plucked the bracelet from the shoebox and inspected it. The strings had loosened just slightly despite having been untouched for twelve years, but they had lost no color. Dark greens and blues were woven together, so integrated that they reminded Dean of the middle of the ocean. The beads, although duller than they were thirteen years ago, were still as intriguing as when Dean had first laid his eyes on them. Looking at the bracelet now, it felt as though no time had passed; as though a twelve year old Cas was sitting right beside him, chubby cheeked and wide eyed. 

Not wanting to waste any more time, Dean wrapped the bracelet around his right wrist and began to tie it. He wished Cas could be here to tie it for him, as he had been last time, but he wasn’t, so Dean had to do it himself. It took over three whole minutes for Dean to knot the bracelet left handed, but when he finally finished, he was smiling with pride. He felt relieved and oddly light, as if the bracelet’s mere presence was lifting some of the guilt off his shoulders. 

For a few minutes, Dean just sat there, looking at the bracelet. It was almost too tight, since it had been made for an eleven year old kid. He wondered how long he’d have to wear it to develop a tan line as intense as Cas’s. 

The room was so quiet and peaceful that when his phone buzzed against his thigh, Dean flinched. He dug into his pocket for the device and saw he had a text from Sam. 

“2 pm work this Saturday?”

Oh, that was right. Sam was supposed to be coming over on Saturday so they could “catch up”. It was probably an excuse for Sam could pry Dean for weird, deep, personal crap that he’d rather not share with anyone. “Yeah,” Dean replied. 

The reply was immediate. “Okay. Just checking. :)” 

A small smile tugged at Dean’s mouth and he rolled his eyes. Of course his brother used weird emojis like that—Cas was a bad influence on him. With his phone on, Dean saw it was almost 10 pm. His nap from earlier seemed to have the opposite effect on his body; instead of giving him energy, it seemed to have taken most of it away because he felt utterly exhausted. In fact, he was so tired that he decided he would go to bed right now after he brushed his teeth. Dean put his phone on the pillow and then closed the box of mementos and slid it back into his drawer, before getting up and using the bathroom. Within a few minutes, he had stripped to boxers and a T-shirt and climbed into bed.

And, just before Dean drifted off, he thought he saw the very same blue butterfly Cas had conjured on the day they made the friendship bracelets, fluttering in the sky among the stars. 

He fell asleep with a genuine smile on his face and more ease than he’d had since before Cas's accident. 


End file.
